Connections
by GenvieveWoolf
Summary: Patrick Jane gets a message from the past-perhaps a message for the future. Simon Baker's former character, Nick Fallin comes on the Mentalist scene. T-rating just in case. Not sure exactly where it's going yet. :
1. The Call

_This will probably seem weird, but here's how it came about: I love the Mentalist. There've only been two seasons so far. So I got sick of waiting for new episodes and decided to go back and watch the Guardian, a show I never really got into. I don't like it as well as the Mentalist, but it has certainly won me over. It struck me that Simon Baker has changed quite a bit in the eight or so years between the shows, but also that he has stayed very much the same. I thought over the similarities and differences between the characters Patrick Jane and Nick Fallin. I thought that under some odd circumstances, Nick could grow into Patrick. Or perhaps they could be related..._

_So that's where this story came from. I hope you like the idea as much as I did._

* * *

"Seriously, we need to call it a night," Lisbon told her team. "It's been fun, but…"

"Today is gone, today was fun, tomorrow is another one," Jane recited. When Lisbon gave him a look, he said, "Dr. Seuss."

"Seriously," Lisbon repeated.

Rigsby nibbled at a now-cool slice of Case-Closed pizza. "Why the rush?" he mumbled.

Lisbon looked to the wall clock for support. "We all need to be rested for whatever tomorrow throws at us. It's already three quarters past the witching hour."

"Actually it's three quarters _through_ the witching hour," Jane corrected. "We still have fifteen minutes in which to be bewitched and bewitching."

Van Pelt and Rigsby exchanged a quick smile.

Cho, his usual deadpan in place, quietly observed Lisbon's growing annoyance.

"You really think we should all just hang out here until morning? Last I checked, you were the only insomniac here, Jane. And I thought you got help with that."

Jane opened his email inbox. "I got some good drugs," he admitted. "But they're gone now. Uh-oh…"

"What?" Lisbon asked, looking like she was tempted to cross the room and look over Jane's shoulder at the computer screen.

"An email," Jane answered.

"OK… from whom?"

"I believe…" Jane clicked the message open. "…from my sister's ex-husband."

Lisbon blinked. "You have a sister?"

Rigsby put down his pizza. "Hell, you have family?"

Van Pelt kicked him under the table.

"Ow."

"Had," Jane corrected. "She died. About eighteen years ago."

"I'm sorry," Lisbon said.

Jane shrugged.

After a silence, Rigsby said, "So, what's her ex got to say?"

Lisbon turned away from Jane. "Rigsby, you know better than to ask your colleagues about their personal lives," she reprimanded.

"It's ok," Jane said, sounding carefree. "He says his son recently went through a difficult experience and he doesn't want to see a real shrink, and would I talk to him."

Rigsby glanced at Cho. Cho glanced at Lisbon. Lisbon turned back toward Jane. "Well, it's fine if you want to do that, but please let me know when you're not going to be available, all right?"

"Sure, sure."

"This is your _job_."

"I thought there was this saying… 'family comes first.' Ever heard of it?"

Lisbon sighed. "Of course it does. I just don't want you to disappear where I can't get a hold of you, all right?"

"Where does he live?" Van Pelt queried.

"Pittsburgh. Don't worry, though. I'm confident he'll come here."

"Why?" asked Lisbon.

"Because this will be awkward enough without Nick or his father feeling indebted to me for traveling to see them. And because they can afford it easily."

"Rich relatives are always nice," Rigsby commented.

"Oh, no, sometimes they can be beasts."

"I meant it's always a plus to have them," Rigsby clarified.

"If you say so."

"_Anyway_," Lisbon interrupted a bit louder than necessary, "I'm going home. I suggest you all do the same."

Not one to make idle threats, Lisbon soon departed. Rigsby walked Van Pelt out a few minutes later.

Cho swung his jacket over one shoulder and headed for the door, tossing a pizza box in the trash on his way. He paused in the doorway. "Jane?" he said.

Jane didn't look up from his computer. "Yeah."

"Do us all a favor: don't stay up all night."

"I hear ya." Jane continued to draft his reply to Burton's message and didn't hear the door close behind Cho.

* * *

"An informant just sent CBI a message," Van Pelt told Lisbon the next day. "Red John killed a hooker in her apartment in downtown LA."

"Let's go," Lisbon said, reaching for her keys.

"I wouldn't rush off if I were you," Jane forestalled her.

Lisbon paused. "Why not?"

"Because the message came from an informant. You don't volunteer that kind of information that way. When you find a body, you call 911, right? And why would the informant bother to mention the fact that the victim was a hooker? Sounds like a red herring to me. Let the local P.D. confirm it first." Jane's phone rang and he answered it. "Patrick Jane speaking."

Lisbon frowned. "How much did the informant say?" she asked Van Pelt.

Meanwhile, Jane heard a voice he hadn't heard for many long years. It had deepened and matured.

"Hey… Uncle Patrick, it's me. Nick."

"Hello. I got an email from your dad just last night."

"Yeah; he told me he sent you one."

"Do you agree with his idea? That you come to me for counseling?"

There was a short pause. "I don't know," Nick admitted. "I guess maybe it would be good. I definitely can't talk to anyone here at the firm—or at the clinic where I've been working."

"Clinic?"

"Dad didn't tell you? I'm on probation. I work at a child advocate agency as community service."

"Drugs?" Jane guessed.

Nick sighed. "Yeah. So, you don't know what's bothering me either."

"Your father just said a recent difficult experience. He didn't specify."

"That figures."

"Do you want to tell me what's going on, or do you want to wait and say it in person?"

Lisbon had gotten all available information from Van Pelt and seemed to Jane to be trying to get his attention without interrupting or looking like she was listening in—which she was, he was sure.

"I… I don't know. I think maybe if I just throw myself back into work, it'll be OK, and…"

Jane raised a hand as if to cut Nick off, even though his nephew couldn't see the gesture. "Listen, I completely understand about not wanting to see a shrink. I don't like them either. But I do think you need someone to talk to. And shutting yourself off and trying to cover it with work is not going to help you. Besides, it would be good to see you again. It's been too long."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess it would be nice to catch up."

"Does your dad still hate me?"

"Uh… I don't think I knew he did."

Jane smiled. "Just hone your observation skills a little. You'll see."

Lisbon gave Jane an impatient look.

"OK, Nick, I've got to go—work. But send me an email, all right? I'll be in touch."

"OK. Thanks," Nick answered.

Jane tucked his phone away. "What?" he asked innocently.

"You don't think this is Red John."

"Nope."

"As usual."

"Have I been wrong about it before?"

Lisbon had no reply. "All right—what do you suggest we do? Ignore it?"

"Send the information to the police ourselves and ask them to confirm the report before we go."

"Won't they have gotten their own alert about it?" Rigsby asked.

"Not if it's fake," Jane said cheerfully.

"OK. Fine. Cho, make the call."

Rigsby looked at Cho.

"I'm guessing he's right, if you're about to suggest placing bets," Cho told him.

"Five bucks," Rigsby said.

"Your money," said Cho. Then he paused. "Actually, it'll be mine soon."

Rigsby rolled his eyes.

Jane picked up a piece of scrap paper and began folding it into a paper airplane. "Rigsby, you need to learn when to place bets and when to sit on your assets."

Rigsby opened his mouth to answer, stopped, then tried again. "Are you trying to be offensive, or—?"

Lisbon shook her head. "You know him better than that. When Jane offends someone, he doesn't have to try."

* * *

_So that is that. Like the opener? Want more? Think it's stupid? :p Let me know, but please be polite._


	2. The Arrival

_So far I've gotten positive feedback, so I'll keep going for now. :) Specific comments are always welcome. I think I may have gotten a little OOC in here, but this is my first Mentalist or Guardian story, so I hope you'll cut me some slack.

* * *

_

"So, Brock called us with the fake Red John tip to get us far enough away that we wouldn't figure out he was actually child snatching and heading for the northern border," Jane concluded. He waited, watching Lisbon's face. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go catch the bad guys." He waved her away.

"You," Lisbon said slowly, pointing a menacing finger at Jane, "are seriously irritating. You have no proof that the Brock case and the Red John tip are connected."

"Boss," Van Pelt said, poking her head in the open doorway. "Brock's car was just spotted heading for the state line."

Lisbon nodded, and then looked back at Jane. "I hope you're right so we can tie up loose ends, but if you're wrong I am going to rub your nose in it."

Jane leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. "OK. I'll be waiting."

"You're not coming?" Van Pelt asked.

"I'm expecting to volley email with my nephew this afternoon. Think you can manage without me?"

Van Pelt nodded good-naturedly. "Oh, I think so."

Lisbon grabbed her jacket. "OK, let's go. Call Cho and tell him to rendezvous with Rigsby…"

Jane waited until they were gone to reopen his inbox. He stared at the lines of text, thinking about the last time he had seen Nick. It was right after his daughter was born. Nick was just a kid and not very interested in babies. He'd been home for spring break…

A new message appeared in the box and Jane opened it.

_Uncle Patrick—_

_I've talked with my parole officers about leaving the area for a short time. They didn't like it, but between your being family and my father's persuasiveness and a slight exaggeration of my emotional instability, they decided that the trip would probably do me good. A proxy parole officer will conduct my weekly drug test while I'm in Sacramento. I'll need to call every third day with a status update._

_Of course, I have no idea how long my trip will take. They didn't like that either. But the main question now is: do I really want to do this? And probably more important: do you?_

—_Nick_

Jane hit reply.

_Nick,_

_It sounds like the situation is doable. You'd be welcome to stay at my house. And, if it helps, I would assume full responsibility for you during your time here._

_The fact that you are wondering whether you need counseling is a pretty good indication that you do. If you want a counselor whom you know has your best interests at heart, I'm your man. Do you want to brief me a bit ahead of time, or wait until you come?_

_Patrick_

He waited again, tapping two fingers against his lower lip. In a few minutes, a reply came.

_It's nice of you to offer to put me up, but I'll be fine in a hotel._

_I guess we're going to do this, then. I'll need to start clearing my schedule—which will take a lot of doing! But I'll try to get you a definite date soon._

_I think it's better to wait on discussing things._

_Thanks. Nick_

Jane quickly began typing again.

_I won't hear of your staying in a hotel. Don't be silly. I have a scandalous amount of room at my place. Keep in touch and let me know when to expect you._

Jane closed his inbox and pushed away from the desk. He knew he had a lot to do before he could entertain a guest at his house.

"I don't think he exists," Rigsby declared as they sat enjoying their second round of Case-Closed pizza in the space of three days.

"Why not?" Cho said. "Everyone has shirttail relatives. Why not Jane?"

"You and Van Pelt were only children," Rigsby said, holding up two fingers. He put up a third. "And we all know Lisbon has brothers. We've never heard one word about Jane having any immediate family, let alone a sister…"

"Maybe that's because she died," Jane said, a pleasant smile on his face. He caught a wince from Van Pelt. She was obviously concerned that Rigsby's insensitivity would offend him. "It's fine, Grace," he said. "I suppose you should all know now that I have another sister—this one alive—named Liz. We're not close. We never were. Not enemies," he clarified, "but not close."

"OK, so let's give the man a little privacy," Lisbon suggested.

"Yes," Jane agreed. "Let's talk about how I was right about Brock."

"Have at him, Rigsby," Lisbon said coldly.

Rigsby obliged. "If this nephew does exist, I want to meet him when he comes. And I want proof that you're related."

"Meet you?" Jane asked. "Rigsby, please—the boy's already been through some sort of trauma; let's not compound it."

"Very funny."

"He looked a little like me when he was young," Jane mused aloud. "Maybe he still does."

"Correlation does not prove causation," Van Pelt put in, smiling before she took a sip of Coke.

Jane grinned at her. "Very good, Grace; well put. I suppose I could ask Nick if he'd submit to DNA testing…"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "You're all nuts."

"Why am I nuts?" Cho asked, picking pineapple off his pizza. "I had nothing to do with any of this."

"Well, OK. You three are nuts," Lisbon amended, gesturing to Jane, Van Pelt and Rigsby.

About a week later, Jane announced that he was going to the airport to pick up Nick.

"Tonight? Now?" Lisbon asked. "You were supposed to keep me up to speed on this."

Jane shrugged. "Well, I'm telling you now. I need to go. We don't have anything pressing just now, right?"

"OK… do you need someone to go with you?"

"That's very sweet, Lisbon. It's nice to know you care. I'd love it if you came along. I'm sure Nick would like to meet you."

Lisbon frowned. "If I thought you were completely serious, I'd say no way in hell. But under the circumstances, yeah. I'll go."

"What circumstances?"

"You're right: we don't have anything pressing. And I am a little curious, too."

"Tell me if he's real!" Rigsby called after them. "Take a photo!"

Van Pelt shook her head. "You're such a dork."

Jane was vaguely aware of Lisbon hovering behind him as he watched for his nephew in the crowd of passengers entering the terminal from their recent flight. He told himself he would know Nick instantly, even as a nagging doubt guilted him. It had been so long. Maybe he wouldn't be able to pick Nick out from the strangers at all.

But then he heard a tiny gasp from Lisbon and a split second later he spotted Nick. _He does still look like me… at least a little._ He was pleased when Nick recognized him as well and approached.

"Uncle Patrick," he said, extending his hand.

Jane gripped Nick's hand and gave him a warm smile. "Good to see you, Nick."

Nick's gaze slid onto Lisbon. "Is this… Whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

Pleased even more by Nick's formality, Jane answered, "Nick, this is Agent Theresa Lisbon. Lisbon, my nephew." He leaned in close to Nick and stage-whispered, "She's my boss."

Lisbon ignored Jane's drama. "It's nice to meet you, Nick. Your uncle is the consultant for my CBI team. I hope you have a good visit here."

"Thank you." Nick adjusted his shoulder bag. "I have a checked bag, so…"

"Of course. This way," Jane said.

"I'm sold," Lisbon told Jane quietly as they walked. "He looks just like you."

Jane glanced at Nick. "No," he declared.

"Yes, I'm serious. You have the same hair—"

"Mine's longer."

"—the same ears—"

"Who notices ears? Besides me, I mean."

"—the same nose…"

"Mom's side," Nick put in. "But we don't look _that_ alike, do we?"

"There, you see," Jane said, as if he'd won a valuable argument.

"Anyway," said Lisbon, "you should get Nick a visitor's pass and bring him by the office sometime. Prove to Rigsby that he's real."

"My colleagues doubt your existence," Jane explained to Nick. "Because I never talked much about my family they assumed I had none and now they don't want to admit their wrong assumptions. So they cover it with another wrong assumption: that I fabricated you."

Nick quirked an eyebrow.

Jane thought he knew what Nick was thinking. Something along the lines of, _And I am going to get psychiatric help from him? Maybe we should switch roles…_

"You might like to see what a day at CBI is like," Lisbon said, smoothing over Jane's rabbit trail.

Nick nodded. "I might. It would be interesting to see how you deal with people before they get to me."

"Before they get to you?"

"I'm a lawyer."

"Oh, I see. Jane hasn't really told us much about you."

"That's mine," Nick said, stepping forward to grab a black rolling suitcase off the conveyor belt.

"How can you tell?" Lisbon asked with a smile. "There are so many that look like that."

Jane leaned down and rattled a key chain hanging from the case's handle. "But very few have a Pittsburgh Pirates key chain attached to them. Doesn't your father hate the Pirates?"

"Neither of us is very big on sports," Nick said. "It's pretty much just to identify my luggage, like you said."

"Good thinking. Let me get that for you. Lisbon, thanks so much for coming—I think we'll take a cab to my place."

Lisbon nodded. "OK. Are you coming to work tomorrow?"

"Of course," Jane said, doing his best to sound innocently offended.

"All right, just asking. Nick, it was nice to meet you."

Nick shook her hand and she headed for the parking garage.

"So, how was the flight," Jane said, allowing the cheap chit chat tone to come out exaggerated.

"Long. Boring. I'd seen the movie and they didn't have any decent vintages. What's the fun of flying first class these days?"

"I'm sure I can't tell you," Jane said in mock sympathy. As an afterthought he added, "You'll just love my car."

* * *

_That's all, folks. :) If you would like to see more, let me know. How do the characters sound? Way off? Close enough? I live on specifics. ;)_


	3. The Case

_I had to develop a bit of plot for this chapter. :p Hope I'm sticking close enough to a believable storyline for the Mentalist. I think I'm exaggerating the characters a little bit, but after all, what is fan fic for, right? Enjoy. And thanks for the comments you've left so far. I love feedback._

* * *

Jane was sliding omelets onto plates when Nick came downstairs in the morning. "Good morning," he said with a smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"All right, thank you," Nick said. "Still kind of jet lagged. That… uh… that's your daughter's room I'm staying in, right?"

Jane put the plates on the table and went to retrieve the orange juice from the refrigerator. "Yes. I hope the pony posters didn't bother you."

"No. Not at all. I just wondered… it's been a couple years, right? Why haven't you changed the room?"

"No need to. I haven't needed the room for anything else, and I'm kind of lazy that way. The only room I've changed much is my bedroom. I basically stripped it down to the bare essentials. That way I don't get distracted. Do you know how my wife and daughter died?"

Nick looked at the plate in front of him. "My father told me they were killed at the same time and I shouldn't bring it up."

"You didn't see anything about it in the news?"

"I'm afraid I mostly follow eastern lawsuits," Nick admitted, a little sheepishly.

Jane nodded. He gave Nick a glass of orange juice and took the seat across from him. "They were murdered by a serial killer named Red John."

"What?" Nick said before he could stop himself. "I… I'm so sorry. Was he caught?"

"No. That's why I've put aside all other goals and committed my time to working with the CBI. They have the Red John case and I am going to help them catch him." Jane took up his fork and gave Nick a smile. "_Bon apatite_."

Nick began eating slowly, which Jane attributed to the heavy matters they had just discussed, but he soon picked up the pace, which Jane had no trouble attributing to his own good cooking.

"Do you usually have coffee with breakfast?" he asked at length. "I'm a tea person, myself."

"Usually, yeah." Nick took a swig of orange juice.

"Well, you're welcome to whatever you find in the kitchen. I do have a coffee maker. You'll probably want to rest some more. I'll call you before lunch and we can eat together, all right?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

* * *

Jane met Nick at an outdoor Mexican café he frequented. They ordered burritos and sat at one of the small umbrellaed tables. "Hope you don't mind cheap alfresco," Jane told Nick.

Nick shook his head. "It's a nice change of pace. My mom would take me to a place like this once in a while when I was a kid. It was fun."

"You miss her."

"Yeah, I do."

"Hear from your aunt Liz?"

"Not for a few years. Last I heard she was in advertising. Doing pretty well, too."

"She did like show business," Jane remembered. "I guess my mother gave her a taste for the more sophisticated side of it."

"You were all part of a carnival circuit, right? That must have been an exciting childhood."

"Well… parts of it. What was it like growing up in a lawyer's house?"

"I didn't, really," Nick said. He took a sip of his ice water. "I was in prep schools just about the whole time."

"You were in law school the last time I was in Pittsburgh," Jane recalled. "You were home for spring break. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah… your daughter was a baby. You didn't stay at my father's house, though, did you?"

"No. We were more in the area to see Anne."

Nick held his glass in the sunlight, watching the patterns the light made on the round tabletop and the effect of the lemon slice's shadow. "Were you and my mother close?"

"No. Our parents sort of fought over us, and I think it translated to over-developed sibling rivalry. Dad didn't have a problem exploiting his children for monetary gain, and Mom always nagged at him and said it was no life for a child—especially for her girls."

"So your dad favored you and your mom favored the girls?"

"Sort of. My dad saw me as a potential ally. My mom treated the girls like precious angels. Which, frankly, they weren't. But maybe I shouldn't tell you about that." Jane smiled conspiratorially. He knew Nick might not want to hear anything against his mother's reputation, but he also knew that his nephew was probably curious.

"Don't you get over some of that when you grow up?" Nick asked. "Why didn't you keep in touch more?"

Jane chewed slowly and swallowed a bite of burrito. "I guess the main issue was that when my mother died we found out she'd been holding out on us—she'd set up a trust fund for my sisters so they could attend a prep school. My dad never knew she had the money. And there wasn't anything for him or me in her will. So they went off to school and I… got stuck on the circuit with the old man. I never felt the desire to keep close contact, and neither did the girls."

"Wait… you're saying you were jealous because Mom and Aunt Liz got to go to prep school?"

"I guess so. Mostly that they got away from the act."

Nick laughed quietly. "Wow. You know, I _had_ to go to prep school. And I didn't like it."

"Well, there you have it. Serendipity. Wasn't meant to happen for me."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"No." Jane smiled. His nephew was perceptive. "We should have gotten together a long time ago. Maybe you could help me in court if I help the investigative side of things."

"You don't have to appear in court much do you?"

"Not often. There was this one time, though… I made a mess of things. But I got the prosecutor back in the end. I tweaked his nose."

"That's how you got him back?"

"No. I then had to go to court for his pathetic 'battery' charge… but you might say I charged _his_ batteries."

Nick laughed again. "Did you win?"

"I represented myself, and I got the judge so distracted by the prosecutor's crimes that they pretty much forgot about the charges against me."

"Unorthodox, but often effective," Nick approved.

Jane felt his phone vibrate. "Excuse me," he said, pulling it from his pocket. "It's Lisbon." He opened the phone. "Yes, boss?"

"Local PD found a Mr. Anderson dead this morning—it may be related to a missing persons report filed last night. You coming?" Lisbon asked.

Jane looked over at Nick and mouthed, "Want to come?"

Nick shrugged.

"Can I bring my nephew?"

"He's a civilian with no connection to the case, Jane. And you should learn to say 'may I.'"

"But he's related to me and I'm related to the case. He'll stay out of the way, I promise. May I?"

Lisbon groaned. "I'm not giving you permission. But I do want you down here."

"Great, so you'll have deniability if anything goes wrong—which it won't," Jane said, smiling.

* * *

The CBI team was already assembled at the address when Jane and Nick arrived. Rigsby and Van Pelt immediately approached to meet the newcomers and Cho and Lisbon followed.

"Nicholas," Jane said, "These are agents Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho. Lisbon you met last night. Everyone, my nephew Nicholas Fallin."

"Nick is fine," Nick told them as the others offered to shake his hand.

"Rigsby, still need a DNA test?" Jane asked.

Rigsby shook his head. "I believe you, man. This is incredible."

"So, how do you like Jane's driving?" Lisbon asked with a smirk.

"It's… exciting," Nick answered.

"He even wore a suit," Rigsby commented. "You always wear a suit, even when you're not working?"

Nick shrugged. "It's what I'm used to."

Van Pelt gave him a friendly smile. "You do look just alike."

"Well… mine's not a three piece suit," Nick pointed out.

"Big difference," Rigsby said sarcastically.

Lisbon cleared her throat. "OK, guys. Let's get to work."

"Have you ever been to a crime scene?" Jane asked Nick quietly, apart from the others.

"I've been arrested," Nick said, half-smiling.

"Yes, but there's a body in there."

"I've been to my share of funerals. I've seen people die."

"Have you seen them lying murdered in their own homes?"

Nick shook his head. "No. But I'll be all right."

"As long as I'm not doing you more harm than good," Jane said, turning to follow his colleagues into the small house.

The body was just inside the doorway. The team had to step over the dead man's limbs to get past him and make room for everyone.

"Well, this is Mike Anderson," Lisbon announced. "His ex-wife Janet and daughter Emma were reported missing by Janet's sister last night. Police arrived here this morning to question Anderson and they found him like this. Murder weapon has not been found, but it is probably some sort of knife. Thoughts?"

"Janet shot her ex and took off with the daughter," Jane declared. "They shall live happily ever after without him."

"Any serious theories?" Lisbon clarified.

"The ex-wife would be the most likely suspect, right?" Nick pointed out. "If both parents wanted custody, there's a motive. And when a child disappears, a parent is usually the abductor."

"OK, that's well-reasoned."

Jane looked betrayed. "That's exactly what I said," he claimed. "Just in different words."

"Are you OK?" Van Pelt asked.

Jane realized she was speaking to Nick and turned in the close quarters to see that his nephew was staring at the dead man's face.

"Yeah…" Nick said slowly. "Is it OK if I…"

"You can wait outside," Lisbon said kindly.

"Actually… I was going to ask if I could take a closer look."

"Go ahead," Jane invited. "Just don't touch anything without gloves. Lisbon hates it when you do that."

Nick knelt on the floor and looked closely at the dead man's eyes. Then he leaned forward and sniffed his clothing.

"Is he sniffing the corpse?" Rigsby asked, looking slightly unnerved.

"If you doubted he was related to Jane," Cho commented, "here's your proof."

Nick blew out a deep breath and stood up.

"What do you think?" Jane asked.

"I can't be sure," Nick answered, "but I think it's Mary Jane."

"Who?" asked Rigsby.

"Marijuana," Cho supplied.

"Right. I knew that."

Jane grinned. "Very good. Dilated pupils, bloodshot eyes, a light smell clinging to his clothes… that's very good."

Nick shrugged modestly. "Takes one to know one, I guess."

"Let's look around the house," Lisbon said. "The police said it looked like someone made some kind of search. Let's see if we can figure out what they were looking for."

"Gotta be the drugs, right?" Rigsby said, leading the way.

Jane shook his head, but no one seemed to notice.

"You think he's wrong?" Nick asked.

"I don't think Anderson was a dealer," Jane explained softly, so only Nick could hear him. "If he used it recently, he wouldn't have much left in the house, if any. This may have nothing to do with the drugs, but if it does I'm guessing someone came here looking for money. Maybe Anderson hasn't been keeping up on his payments for his weed."

Nick nodded. "That makes sense. So what kind of evidence do you hope to find to prove your theory?"

"Oh, I hope it's not a mob or a drug dealer. Premeditated crimes are so much more interesting. But then again, the ex-wife theory is boringly obvious, too. We'll see. But anyway, my favorite form of evidence is a confession."

"Sure, well those are easy to get," Nick smirked.

"Easier than you'd think."

"I don't like the way you two are talking so conspiratorially," Lisbon said, sticking her head out of the room she had entered a moment before.

"We have a lot to catch up on."

Lisbon looked skeptical. "You were talking about family stuff? Now? Listen, I let you bring him to the crime scene, but if you're thinking of getting him to help pull off one of your crazy stunts…"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jane said airily. "And anyway, my stunts are more on the brilliant side than the crazy side."

Lisbon rolled her eyes and went back to looking for clues.

"You learn to love her," Jane told Nick.

* * *

_That's all I got for ya for now. Hope you enjoyed it. I'm starting to work my way through season two of the Guardian, so if I get some facts wrong I hope you'll understand that I don't know everything about Nick yet. I'm doing my best. Feel free to point them out, though._


	4. The Assumption

_So it continues. So far I've had a lot of fun writing this. I've had ideas for future stories... we'll see. x)_

* * *

"Long day," Jane said after supper.

"But very interesting," said Nick. "How long does it usually take to close a case like this?"

"Could be a few days, could be a few weeks. Our team has a pretty high success rate, and we tend to close cases quicker than most."

"Because of you?"

"Because it's a good team. But… Lisbon's new boss did tell me I'm 'golden.' Take that however you will."

Nick smiled.

"So," Jane said, folding his hands on the kitchen table, "what's going on between you and your father?"

Nick's smile faded. "What do you mean?"

"You're not getting along well. Why?"

"Did he say we weren't getting along well?"

"No; you told me."

"…No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. At the airport I made the comment that your father hated the Pirates. But the last time I saw him, he was following the team's progress with interest. You didn't correct me. You said neither of you was into sports."

"So? It wasn't important."

"When I introduced you as Nicholas, you took care to let the CBI team know to call you Nick."

"Most people call me Nick. Nicholas is long. It sounds stuffy."

"It's what people called you at prep school, isn't it? The prep school your father forced you to go to..."

"Actually they usually called me Fallin," Nick cut in.

Jane didn't pause. "… And it's probably what your father calls you at work."

"I don't have a problem working with my father."

"Furthermore, you found it necessary to point out to the team the difference in our suits. Your father usually wears a three piece, doesn't he?"

Nick's look had become icy. "This is ridiculous. I didn't come here to talk to you about my father."

"Well, it's obviously an issue, or you wouldn't be so defensive about it."

"I'm not—" Nick stopped himself. "Look, I don't want to discuss it. Can you respect that?"

Jane studied his nephew's face. "Whatever Burton thought you should see me about, this problem with him is older. Maybe deeper. I think we should deal with it first, or I may not be able to help you in the other area."

"No." Nick shook his head with a humorless smile. "My father and I know how to live and work together. That's enough. Leave it alone."

Jane sat back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. "You know, sometimes when we were alone, my father would call me 'Patty.' Usually when he was excited about something. I didn't really like it."

Nick remained silent under his stony expression.

"I think it was because we never got excited about the same things," Jane went on. "He was usually excited about making money. Which was cool at first—I saw the appeal of playing the suckers. But once in a while it would bother me. That really hacked him off. Times like that, I hated being alone with him, with no one to bail me out."

Nick slowly lifted his gaze to Jane's face.

"No," Jane said.

Nick looked confused. "No?"

"You were wondering just now if my father abused me, and the answer is no. He was stern. But not abusive."

"I… um… OK. That's good. Neither was mine."

Jane smiled. "I wasn't asking."

"You don't really think my father—"

"No. I didn't think so, and even if I had, I can see you're telling the truth."

Nick swallowed and looked away again. "Can we just… not talk about this anymore?"

"For now," Jane agreed.

* * *

"Nick was right about the marijuana," Lisbon reported the next morning. "The autopsy showed that he'd been an occasional user; maybe a habitual user a long time ago. We also found rolling papers in his car."

"So was he trying to quit?" Cho wondered.

"Maybe. We've been running down the local snitches, trying to find out whom he was buying from. In the meantime we've gotten several calls about Janet and Emma. Lots of people think they saw one or both of them, or their car, but they can't be all over California at the same time. So, we need to decide which leads are most viable and follow them up."

"If the mother was kidnapped along with the daughter," Jane mused, "no one would see either of them. If just the daughter was kidnapped, then the mother is the most likely suspect. So maybe they're not being hidden—maybe they're hiding."

"And?"

"And if you were hiding with your little girl, where would you go?"

"A motel or apartment building," said Van Pelt. "Someplace cheap where they wouldn't ask many questions."

"I think we should talk to the sister again. See if there's a place Janet already knew about that she might run to."

Lisbon nodded. "OK. Cho, you stay here and man the office in case a snitch pans out. Van Pelt, I want you and Rigsby to talk to some of the people who claimed to see Janet; see if you can get anything concrete. Keep in touch with the Missing Persons unit in case they get new information. Jane and I will go talk to the sister."

"What about the people who think they saw Emma by herself?" Van Pelt asked.

"Right now we're working on the theory that Janet and Emma are together," Lisbon explained. "It's just a place to start."

"Can I drive?" Jane asked.

"Again with the 'can I,'" Lisbon muttered, leading the way out of the office.

"May I drive?"

"No."

* * *

"They were coming to our house that day," Janet's sister, Meg remembered. "Emma is about the same age as our son Josh, so they would kind of keep themselves occupied while we adults played board games or watched a movie. It was nice." She dabbed her face with a tissue. "They were supposed to come in time for lunch. When they were an hour late, I tried calling Jan's cell. It was turned off, so I waited a while and tried again. I started to think maybe she forgot what day it was."

"Did Janet forget things like that often?" Lisbon asked.

"No. Almost never. When she didn't answer her home phone either, I decided to call Mike."

"Mike Anderson," Jane put in. "Janet's ex."

"Yeah. I knew Emma had just spent the weekend with him, so I thought he might know if Janet had made other plans and forgotten to come over. But I couldn't get hold of Mike either. I guess he was already dead then."

"You guess, or you know?"

Meg stared at Jane, bemused. "Uh… I think the police said he died that morning, right?"

"Did they?"

"Are you trying to trick me or something?" Meg looked upset. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just assuming. But I think he was probably already dead when I tried to call him." She set her forehead on the palm of one hand.

"Don't let him get to you," Lisbon said gently as she shot Jane a scathing look. "Now, do you know of anyplace Janet might go when she's in trouble?"

Meg shook her head.

"Is there anywhere nearby that Janet went at some point to get away?" Jane pressed. "Somewhere special?"

"Well… when she and Mike eloped, they couldn't have a real honeymoon, so they stayed in some motel for a week. I think it was in Carmichael."

"When was that?"

"About eight years ago, I think. Emma was born the next year. You're going to find them, right?" Meg said in a tight voice.

"We will try," Lisbon assured her. "We have several agents and local police looking for them right now, and dozens more keeping an eye out."

"You don't think they're dead, do you?"

Lisbon looked at Jane. She knew he was about to say something heartless because he thought it was the kindest thing to do. She had to speak first. She opened her mouth…

"No," said Jane. "It is a possibility, of course, and you should be prepared for the worst. But I have hope that we'll find them alive."

Lisbon left her mouth hanging open a moment. Then she realized and closed it.

"Thank you," Meg sniffed.

Jane patted her hand. "Just one more thing. Did you know that Mike Anderson was a drug user?"

Meg nodded. "That's part of the reason Jan wanted to divorce him in the first place."

"Thank you." Jane left without another word.

Once outside, Lisbon demanded, "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"Did I really hear you give someone hope without slapping them in the face with your idea of the grim reality?"

Jane stopped walking and faced her. "I didn't give her false hope. I do think Janet and Emma are alive and together. Maybe scared, but I think they're all right. And I do think we'll find them in that condition. And I also think this is just an all-around pretty boring case."

Lisbon gawked at him a moment. "So, I suppose you know who killed Mike Anderson?"

"I don't have a name yet, but I have a pretty good idea. And I think I know why Janet and Emma are hiding. And I think we should have someone watch Meg and Ryan's house."

"You think they're in danger?"

"Oh, yeah. It's just a matter of time."

"Care to say why you think so?"

Jane smiled. "My turn to drive."

"That's not fair."

"Fair, schmair."

Lisbon sighed. Slowly, she handed over the keys. "Talk fast."

* * *

Jane prepared a chicken stir fry for dinner that night.

"How's the case going?" Nick asked, dealing a bit awkwardly with the chopsticks Jane had provided.

"Very well. We'll find Janet and Emma soon. And we're going to find Anderson's killer soon, too. There's not much serious brain work left. How did you find Sacramento?"

"By taking a bus," Nick smirked. "I found it like Pittsburgh in some ways. Very different in others."

Jane nodded. "I think after dinner we should talk. If you're ready."

Nick took his time chewing and swallowing before he answered. "Sure. No sense putting it off, I guess."

"That's true. Don't start telling yourself that you're fine and it's not important. If you do, this thing will get glossed over instead of cleaned out. It'll fester and nag at you just below the surface for the rest of your life."

"I get it." Nick looked uncomfortable. "Uh… this is really good," he said, gesturing to the food. "When did you start cooking?"

"When I was a kid. Hardly anyone in the troupe was good at it, so I figured I couldn't spoil things. Then I used to cook with my wife sometimes. I'm kind of a picky eater, so I figure I should be familiar with what one has to go through to make really good food. Some red wine would be nice with this, but I didn't think to pick any up…"

"It's OK. I'm not supposed to drink anyway. Probation."

"Oh, of course. Do you mind if I ask—?"

"It was a possession and use of illicit drugs charge. The wild party was at my house, so of course they were my drugs…"

"Were they?" Jane pressed.

"I only took what was brought and given to me. I can't stand the way cops work sometimes."

"Me neither." When Nick laughed, Jane said, "Hey, I'm not a cop—I just work with them."

"I know…" Nick shrugged. "I guess you probably see them make a lot of assumptions you don't like, huh?"

"Oh, all the time. The trick is to make bigger and better assumptions yourself, and always turn out to be right."

"Well, that's easy. I'll have to remember next time."

* * *

_There's your feel-good moment before the angst begins. ;D If this is the first story of mine that you've read, I think I should warn you: I'm an angst junkie. Please be so good as to leave a comment._


	5. The Chase

_I know this chapter took a little longer than the others, but the chapter is longer, so I hope that makes up for it. Here's some of the angst I promised you. :p_

* * *

"You're not going to make me lie down on the couch or anything, right?" Nick asked.

Jane could see from Nick's smile that he was trying to seem amusing and unconcerned; but he also could tell from the tone of his small, nervous laugh that he wanted an answer. "No, no. Whatever you're most comfortable with. In fact, I'll take the couch if you don't want it."

"Oh." Nick seemed a little surprised. "OK, then… I'll just sit over here." He sat in an armchair.

Jane settled on the couch in the way he normally did at CBI when he wanted to think.

"You're not going to take notes?"

"No; I think that would be distracting for both of us. Besides, I don't want you to worry in future because there's a hard copy of this—it's just between us, all right?"

Nick nodded. "OK."

"So, I want you to go back in your memory as far as you think is reasonable. I do better with more information than with less. You could go back as far as your early childhood, if you think it might help me understand what you're going through."

"You know, I really don't go in for Freudian psychology…"

"Neither do I."

"…and I'd rather just get some strait-up help relating to what happened to me a couple weeks ago. Is that all right?"

Jane thought it over. _This won't be easy._ "I really can't relate to you if you don't give me some background."

"Fine. You know what my parents were like, for the most part. I lived with my mom most of the time after they got divorced until she got sick and died. Then Dad put me into Ivy League boarding schools. College, law school, a job in New York. I messed around with drugs, liked cocaine way too much, I got a job at Dad's firm, I got caught with drugs and put on probation. Am I going too fast?"

"Yes. Keep going."

"Instead of going to prison I got a hefty fine and fifteen hundred hours' community service as a child advocate at Children's Legal Services. My first case, I got to meet my client all of ten minutes before his placement hearing. In the courtroom I heard for the first time how my client's father stabbed his mother in front of him."

"Not to be Freudian, but how did that make you feel?"

Nick looked at the floor. "I panicked," he admitted. "I didn't want to do it. I actually ran out of the courtroom."

"How old was the boy?"

"Uh… ten or so. That's not the case I'm having trouble putting behind me, though."

"But it is about CLS?"

"Yeah. Um, should I back up? Did you want to ask about any of the stuff I said before?"

"That's all right," Jane said, folding his hands behind his head and looking at the ceiling. "We can come back to it later."

"OK. Well, one day Laurie Solt—she's with social services—she pulls me into court for a placement hearing for a girl named Lesley. The prospective adoptive parents are late. When they arrive, Laurie steps out to speak with them, comes back in and tells the judge to take us off the docket."

"Parents changed their minds?"

"Yeah. Lesley had congestive heart failure. They'd fostered her for a while and seemed to love her, but they decided she took too much time away from their other kids. It was too much work. Laurie told me that Lesley was waiting for a heart transplant, but she wouldn't get one if she didn't have a stable home to recover in."

"So, no parents, no heart; no heart, no Lesley."

"Yeah." Nick swallowed.

Jane mulled things over until he realized that the silence was probably very uncomfortable for Nick. "Go ahead. What happened?"

"I really wanted Lesley to live, so I tried very hard to find another couple to adopt her. But Lesley kept getting weaker. If she didn't get a heart soon, she'd be too weak for the operation, so…" Nick paused and took a deep breath.

"You stepped in to be her foster parent," Jane supplied.

"Yes."

"Did the court approve it?"

"Yes, with recommendations from Laurie and reservation on the part of the judge."

"Why did you want so much for Lesley to live? I mean yes, it's sad, but this sort of thing happens every day. Why were you willing to make a commitment that could complicate the entire rest of your life?" Jane glanced over at Nick. _He's going to want to stop soon. He's not comfortable showing his feelings, and they're starting to leak out._

"I'd gotten to know her. She was twelve and… already an amazing person. She made me feel like there were things—worth doing. And experiencing. And thinking about her dying… kind of freaked me out. She handled the idea way better than I did.

"So, after I became her guardian, a heart became available. We took Lesley in, she understood all the risks and gave her consent, I signed the papers, and she died on the operating table."

_Abrupt,_ Jane thought. "You want to take a break? Get a drink or something?"

"Yeah. That'd be good."

* * *

"Actually, we do kind of like sports," Nick admitted to Jane while they sipped tall glasses of ice water. "My dad and I both used to like boxing."

"As a pastime?"

"Hell, no. Just to watch once in a while.

"Oh." Jane smiled. "Did you ever go see the fights up close?"

"A couple times, yeah. Probably the only time my dad and I rooted for the same thing." Nick laughed wryly.

"So it was something you enjoyed a lot."

"I guess."

"What else do you enjoy?"

"Well…"

"What just popped into your head when I said that?"

"Uh…" Nick blushed.

"Nick, you need to quit sleeping with every girl that comes along."

Nick froze. "What? What did you say?"

"You're a young, attractive lawyer, and you blushed when I asked what you enjoy. You have obvious issues with long-term relationships. It all fits."

Nick set his glass on the counter. "Screw you," he said. He turned on his heel and headed for the front door.

"This was good," Jane called after him. "We should talk again tomorrow."

* * *

"Cho and Rigsby are out checking up on the dealer," Lisbon told Jane when he arrived at CBI the next morning. "In the meantime, Van Pelt has narrowed down the sightings of Janet to a few in Carmichael which are conveniently located near a cheap motel."

"Good. Let's go."

Lisbon grabbed her keys and held them a little protectively as she walked.

"I know it's your turn to drive," Jane said.

Lisbon glanced at him. "OK… What are you getting at?"

"You looked like you were worried I would contest it, so I thought I'd put you at ease."

"I wasn't worried."

"Liar."

"So, how's Nick?"

Jane smiled at the sudden change of subject. "Well, he's all right. I think."

"Uh-oh. What happened?"

"Well, he didn't come home last night."

"Didn't come home? When did he leave?"

"An hour or so after dinner."

"Say where he was going?"

"No."

"Is that normal?"

"I wouldn't think so—I mean, he lives on his own in Pittsburgh."

"You know what I mean. Are you going to call his father?"

"He's not a child, Lisbon."

"So, you're not worried." Lisbon gave him a skeptical look.

"No. Not really. Maybe a little." Jane's phone rang. "Ah, that's him now."

"You're lucky."

Jane answered his phone. "Hey, Nick. Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back to your house," Nick's agitated voice answered. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stay out all night."

"It's OK. You didn't cross any state lines, right?"

"No. And I didn't use any drugs or alcohol."

"Good. Are you all right?"

"Yeah… yeah. I'll explain when I see you, OK? Would you meet me for lunch?"

"Of course. I'll give you a call later."

"Thanks."

"So," Lisbon queried when Jane put his phone away, "is he OK?"

"Sounds fine."

"Liar," she muttered.

* * *

Jane and Lisbon wandered from motel to motel, looking for Janet and Emma. Lisbon showed pictures to the clerks while Jane muttered things like "I don't think it's this one" or "they're not here."

"I'm starting to feel like this is a wild goose chase," Lisbon said as they pulled up in front of the fifth motel. "And I'm getting sick of Carmichael."

Jane looked at his watch. "We'll have to head back soon so I can meet Nick for lunch. It would be nice if this turned out to be the place."

"Yes, well, things don't always turn out that way."

"I don't know—with how boring this case is already, it would just be ironic…" He dialed Nick's phone. "Hey, it's me. "We're either about to find Janet and Emma, or about to give up until after lunch. What kind of food would you like to eat?"

Lisbon led the way into the motel lobby and showed her badge and the photos to the clerk while Jane continued his conversation.

"That looks kinda like the mom and kid in… 114? 115? Hang on." The seedy-looking clerk flipped a few pages in his ledger. "115. Margaret Sherwood. Think she said her daughter's name was Lea."

Lisbon frowned. "We'd better check. Could we have a passkey, please?"

Jane covered his phone with his hand. "Oh, that's them," he said. "If they're not here now, then they were. You should have your gun ready, just in case, but with the way things have been going, I doubt we'll get any excitement."

Glaring, but still noting his advice, Lisbon led the way to 115. When she arrived in front of the door, she realized that Jane had not followed her. "Great… Margaret Sherwood?" She called. "Margaret, I'm Agent Lisbon with CBI. I need to ask you some questions. Is anyone in there?" She waited.

Meanwhile, Jane was wandering along behind the building. "Yeah, we just found the motel where she and her daughter have been hiding," he told Nick. "Well, Lisbon's taking the direct approach, and I'm hanging out behind the motel… Just hanging out. Maybe I should bring Lisbon to lunch—would that be OK?"

A window opened as Jane walked along. He paused in front of it, just in time to greet the frightened face of a young girl who was being lifted through the window.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said with a smile.

There was a stifled scream and the child disappeared from the window.

"Oh, I wasn't talking to you," Jane assured Nick. Then he jumped away from the window. "Whoa, whoa. Hey, I'm with the CBI agent out front. Take it easy!"

"What is it?" Nick asked.

"I think it was pepper spray," Jane said, sniffing his cuff. His eyes watered.

Around front, Lisbon put the passkey to use as soon as she heard the scream. "It's all right, ma'am," she said. "Here's my badge; I'm with the police. Everything's all right." She took a long look at the harried-looking woman cradling the young girl in her arms. "Janet?"

* * *

"How did you know?" Lisbon asked on the way to the restaurant.

"That it was the right place? I knew as soon as I heard the fake names," Jane boasted. "Margaret—Janet's sister's name is Meg. Sherwood? Her husband's last name was Anderson. And Lea—well, put Emma with Lea and you get Emily."

"Sherwood Anderson?" Lisbon exclaimed. "That is such a stretch. It could have been a coincidence."

"Meg had a lot of bookshelves in her house—did you notice? A love of reading often runs in the family. Janet probably knows her authors well. But someone she was hiding from, like an uncultured drug dealer, would never think of it."

"OK, fine. But Sherlock, how did you know she would try to go out the window?"

"If you were hiding from scary criminals and someone came to your door claiming to be from an organization you've never heard of, what would you do? There was only one other way out. I figured someone should cover it."

"So you're convinced Janet didn't kill her ex-husband," Lisbon said.

"Yes. She disappeared when he died not because she was guilty, but because she was scared. This is the place, by the way."

"I saw it," Lisbon groused. She guided the SUV into the parking lot of the Chinese restaurant.

Jane savored the smell of fried food and oolong tea as they entered the restaurant. They found Nick sitting in a booth with a pot of tea in front of him.

Nick made as if to stand and Lisbon said, "Oh, don't get up." As she slid into the booth across from him, she said, "What happened to you?"

Involuntarily, Nick's hand moved to the bruise that was beginning to show by his right eye. "Uh… it's a long story."

"Are you all right?" Jane asked.

"Sure. I just…" He looked down at his teacup.

"If you guys want to talk, I can just get takeout and go back to the office," Lisbon said.

"You don't have to go. We can talk about it later, right? Tell me about the case."

"Well, we found Janet and Emma."

"Oh, good. Are they all right?"

Jane nodded. "They were scared, but not hurt. Janet says they were afraid Mike's old drug dealer would come after them. She says Mike told her he owed the guy money. She thinks the dealer killed Mike. Emma had left something at Mike's house when she stayed there for the weekend, so Janet took her to get it on the way to Meg's house. Mike asked Janet for money and explained that since he quit buying drugs his dealer had been threatening him and demanding to get what he was owed. A strange car pulled up while they were there and Mike sent them out the back door. He told Janet that the dealer and his henchmen might hurt her or try to kidnap Emma to get their payment."

"Wow," Nick said. "Where did they go?"

"A motel in Carmichael. A female police officer is going to stay with them at Janet's sister's house until this thing is resolved."

"Now we just need the dealer's real name," Lisbon said. "Mike told Janet he was called 'Keen,' but that can't be his real name. She never got a good look at the guy, either."

"So, you need an informant," Nick said.

"Keen," Jane murmured.

Lisbon and Nick looked at each other. Then Lisbon turned to Jane. "OK," she said, "what are you thinking?"

Jane shrugged. "Oh, I was just thinking about the word. It was the old-school word for cool, you know."

"I know."

"Or it can mean sharp."

"Yeah. Is this relevant?" Lisbon's phone rang and she pulled it out. "Lisbon. OK. Does it sound legit? Sure, I'll be right there." She got up and Jane stood to let her out of the booth. "You guys stay here, I'm going with Cho to check out a lead. It's the first good bite we've got on the little reward the state posted for information about Keen. Someone called the hotline."

"Let me know," Jane told her as she went by. "So," he said, sitting down again, "are we ordering or doing buffet?"

"I thought we'd do the buffet."

"OK. Who hit you?"

"Some guy. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like that. And I really didn't mean to be gone so long. I just wanted to cool off, and I ended up down at this park I saw when I was out before. I just… sat there for a long time until it was dark. Then this guy came up and asked if I was all right. And I figured he was either a religious zealot or a dealer. Or gay, I suppose. Anyway, whichever it was, I didn't want to talk to him, so I said I was fine. But he wouldn't leave. So I tried to walk away and he followed me."

Jane poured himself some tea while he listened.

"I told him to leave me alone, he kept trying to get me to talk, I turned around and yelled at him, he said something stupid to me, I insulted him, he hit me." Nick sighed. "I don't really know what he wanted, but he kind of had that look. That… way of talking. And I was already mad."

"Did you fight back?"

"No. I guess I was just too apathetic at that point. I let him walk away. It's what I wanted in the first place."

"Right. Then what?"

"I guess I was kind of embarrassed to go back then. I was tempted to go to a bar, but I didn't. I just wandered around some more. By the time I realized how far I'd gone, I was sure you'd have turned in and I didn't want to wake you. I found another park bench and kind of dozed a little while. Then I headed back around dawn."

"Well, don't ever worry about waking me up. I don't tend to sleep very well anyway. And I definitely didn't last night."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Just understand: you can always come back. Whatever happens, you don't have to be embarrassed or afraid to come back. All right?"

Nick nodded.

* * *

Jane noted that Nick seemed to relax after they got their food and sat down to eat. He was apparently getting over his discomfort.

"So, what do you do to relax?" Jane asked. "Do you have any hobbies?"

"Um… I swim sometimes. Usually about once a week. Keeps me in shape."

Jane's phone buzzed and he picked it up off the table. "It's Lisbon," he said. "Guess I should answer."

"Yeah, maybe," Nick said, smiling a little.

"Hello, boss."

"Hey," Lisbon answered. "The lead didn't pan out, but we have new information. It seems this Keen guy has a dog tattooed on his neck."

"A dog tattoo? It amazes me that criminals are more likely to get tattoos than law-abiding citizens are. They make a person so easy to identify. Got whereabouts on this guy?"

"Last seen in Rosemont, if our informant is to be believed."

"Rosemont, huh? OK. Keep me posted."

"Keen," Nick said suddenly.

"What?" asked Jane. He stared at Nick's face. "What is it? Oh… OH!" he exclaimed. "Lisbon, if this guy in Rosemont does have a dog tattoo, than I'd say he's your guy."

"What makes you so sure?" she asked.

"Nick figured it out. Remember what I said about the meanings of the word 'keen?'"

"Yeah."

"It can mean the baying of a hound dog."

"You and your jumping to conclusions…"

"Listen," Nick cut in, "he's not in Rosemont. He's in western Sacramento."

"Hang on," Jane told Lisbon. "You sure?"

"Yeah. The guy who hit me last night—he had a foxhound tattooed on his neck. I _knew_ he was a dealer."

"Lisbon, Nick ID'd the dealer last night in western Sacramento. Foxhound tattoo on the neck. Put everyone on the alert."

Back at the office, Lisbon rolled her eyes. "What do you mean, 'put everyone on the alert?' You watch too much TV."

"I just know good entertainment. Let me know when you find the guy; I wanna talk to him."

"Does this have to do with Nick's bruise?"

"What's that, Lisbon? There's some interference."

"I said—"

"Never mind. Whatever it is, you can tell me when I see you. Bye." Jane closed his phone.

Nick eyed his uncle skeptically. "There wasn't any interference, was there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jane innocently took a sip of tea.

* * *

_How's that for cheesy clues? lol I could never make any money if I tried to write real mysteries. Anyhow, once again I hope I'm not getting too out of character. Let me know how you're enjoying the wild ride. ;)_


End file.
